


Password Protected

by Captain_Loki



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crack, First Time, Fluff, M/M, derek's porn habits, stiles is nosy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-28
Updated: 2012-11-28
Packaged: 2017-11-19 19:39:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/576911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Loki/pseuds/Captain_Loki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles stumbles into Derek's porn folder. He has a type. Plot twist...there is no plot twist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Password Protected

Stiles knows that Derek has a laptop because he was there when he bought it. Well he bought it for him, mostly, because Derek is actually terrible when it comes to listening to sales pitches and even worse at listening to “techno jargon” sales pitches, which is an actual thing that he actually says right there in the middle of the Apple Store.

“Are you ninety? I was pretty sure you weren’t raised by actual wolves but I’m starting to rethink my position,” Stiles tells him, rolling his eyes.

“I have literally no idea what any of this means,” Derek huffs, before he throws his hands up and stalks out of the store and into the bustle of the mall.

“Where are you going?” Stiles shouts after him, totally unsure whether he’s supposed to follow or not, the Apple employee gives him a sympathetic look.

“Around. Buy whatever!”

Stiles finds him twenty minutes later outside of the food court DQ staring at an ice cream cone like its refusing to impart the mysteries of the universe to him.

So, the laptop? Not a surprise.

It’s not even really a surprise that Derek is grouchy and overprotective of his laptop, which Stiles finds both rude and intriguing.

“You don’t seem particularly bothered by personal boundaries when you’re stealing mine, you know,” Stiles reasons one night when Derek actually slams the lid of the macbook closed on Stiles’ fingers. He rubs them, scowling at Derek.

Derek doesn’t actually answer him, which Stiles finds suspicious and evasive.

Stiles spends sleepless nights contemplating what kinds of things Derek doesn’t want Stiles to see. He thinks it’s probably porn but then he’d actually have to imagine Derek Hale watching porn and his brain shuts down on a fundamental level when he thinks about Derek doing normal things, like laundry or brushing his teeth, or pooping because first he can only imagine him popping a squat in the neighbors’ bushes like a gutsy dog and then also starts wondering what kind of literature an angry alpha might read.

 

 

Shortly after Stiles’ holiday break starts he’s curled up on the futon in the living room of Derek’s small apartment when Derek excuses himself and bids a retreat to the bathroom, snatching up a copy of sports illustrated from the coffee table as he goes, which at least answered that question.

Stiles is trying to get a signal on his phone to look up the name of the actress in the episode of Doctor Who they’re watching because it’s been bugging him for the past twenty minutes.

“Ugh, fucking 4G,” Stiles grumbles, trying to connect to Derek’s wifi which he’d lovingly named Concentrated Mainpain when he’d helped Derek set up his router. Derek’s laptop is unguarded on the coffee table in front of him, Stiles is only human, as is pointed out at nearly every available opportunity, so he doesn’t feel at all guilty when he pulls it towards him, even if he does shoot a glance toward the dark hallway, just in case.

Derek has a password set which irritates and offends Stiles.

“It’s really a testament to how far we haven’t come that you feel the need to password protect your laptop. Do you have nuclear defense codes in here or something? Some nude selfies?” Stiles shouts down the hall.

He tries guessing it anyway, fingers pounding out ‘sourwolf’ with a wild sort of grin because—

“Oh.” His jaw clacks shut, huh.

He can hear rustling in the bathroom now as he’s met with Derek’s catastrophe of a desktop. He rolls his eyes at the clutter of folders when he spots the one labeled ‘personal stuff.’ Stiles knows this is a terrible invasion of Derek’s privacy but he’s not actually expecting it to be his porn folder on his fucking desktop labeled ‘personal stuff’ because Derek is so fucking unironic it isn’t funny.

Stiles isn’t entirely sure what he thought Derek’s preferences might be. Horrible fetish porn maybe? Whips, chains, feet? Busty Asian girls or maybe tentacle porn? Bestiality? Stiles is a connoisseur of porn, so much so that sometimes he hopes there’s a big brother stuffy government agent somewhere that has to catalogue his internet usage.

What he finds instead as he sifts through the extensive folder is a collection of videos of twinks getting fucked by strong muscular men. It’s not so much the lack of vagina that really throws Stiles, or even that Derek might be attracted to guys that look like Derek or even really twinky guys but mostly what throws Stiles as he clicks on video after video and scrolls through his collection of gifs…

It’s that every single twink has a shaved head.

Every.

Single.

One.

“Stiles.” Stiles nearly drops the laptop when he jumps. Derek is standing at the front of the hallway and looking at him, lividly. His face is flushed beneath his angry eyebrows. The angriest eyebrows Stiles has ever actually seen. Stiles thinks he could pretend like he didn’t find what he found but then he hears over the sound of the TARDIS dematerializing a soft,

“yeah, oh god, fuck yeah…”

They stare at each other for a comically long time when Stiles looks down at the screen.

“Oh dude, I’ve seen this one!” He shouts, smiling. Derek doesn’t move. Stiles slides back against the couch and balances the laptop on his knees and tilts the screen so he can see better. “I broke your code,” Stiles tells him, letting his sock clad feet slide across the slippery surface of the coffee table, his legs stretched out.

Finally Derek moves closer.

“What are you doing?” He asks, voice tight and controlled. Stiles recognizes it as his ‘shit is about to hit the fan but I am trying not to make things worse by committing mass homicide’ voice.

“Watching porn.” Stiles says, nonchalantly. “Oh God…that…that looks painful.” Derek snatches the laptop back and snaps it shut.

“What the fuck is your damage, Stiles?” Derek snaps.

“My damage? Who leaves their porn on their desktop?” Stiles says, standing up.

“Who goes through another man’s porn folder?” Derek grumbles, holding his laptop to his chest like a shield.

“I was curious.” Stiles steps closer to Derek. “So like…are short haired twinks your type or is that strictly like a porn fetish thing? Cos like…sometimes I watch DP but I don’t know if I’d really be up for that in real life you know? But I like to keep my options open.”

Derek makes more facial expressions in the next split second than Stiles thinks he has in the entire time Stiles has known him. He tries and fails not to bark out a laugh.

“No but seriously though, cos like I only have a month before I have to go back to school and a forty five minute drive isn’t a whole lot but it kind of is for a booty call so if I find out that we could have been having sex this whole time but weren’t I’m returning your Christmas presents.”

“Stiles—“ Derek starts.

“Is this a speech?” Stiles teases. “Will we be here for a while? I could get some snacks?” Derek rolls his eyes and sets the laptop back down on the coffee table. When he straightens he pushes into Stiles’ space and wraps his hands around Stiles’ wrists, just enough pressure to tug him forward. He lifts Stiles’ arms up just slightly and loosens his grip and with a grin Stiles takes the hint and cups Derek’s face. Derek drops his own hands to Stiles’ waist where he toys with the edge of Stiles’ jeans and the hem of his t-shirt.

The approach is slow but the kiss is hard and fast when their lips finally meet.

 

 

“Well fuck,” Stiles pants later, between them. Derek shoots him an uncertain look.

“What?”

“Now I have to actually buy you Christmas presents.” Derek rolls his eyes and wipes the smirk from his face with his tongue.


End file.
